Freaky Friday!
Well, actually it wasn't so bad at all.
At the due time I turned up to record the radio advert for my books on my local radio station NECR Scotland.
John was very welcoming and popped me into the 'box' where I recited my spiel. My suggested text had been changed very slightly from my final version because my local radio tend to do only '30 second' adverts when it's a concentrated burst of broadcasting. My original commercial was running at around 1 minute which I managed to reduce to 45 seconds - pretty well a 'no breaths in between' job.
The version which will broadcast next week, on three consecutive days, will have some underlying music which I have still yet to hear, though I'm really looking forward to hearing what John will choose for it. I hoping to be able to share at a later date after it has broadcast!
All in all, it was a positive experience and one which I could actually have done in only 1 take if John hadn't decided to have me repeat the telephone number - something which had been 'cut' by the advertising department to shorten it. Saying it twice won't do any harm, I don't think...and it's closer to the 3 times recommended by most internet sites on 'How to write a radio commercial'.
Tomorrow, I'm off to sell my books at Ellon, Aberdeenshire. We'll see how that goes.
Pssst... I'm really not wanting to think about that magical 'C' word yet since it's only Halloween tomorrow but the craft fair of tomorrow has been advertised as a "Christmas Craft Fair" so I have to get out the twinkling red and green lights and the tinsel.
Oh, no! Shock horror. I don't have tinsel and will have to make do with some tiny tasteful Christmas items- just to set the mood for PRESSIE buying.
Slainthe!
Friday 30 October 2015
Wednesday 28 October 2015
6 goodies for writing a radio advert
Welcome to a late Wednesday post!
I was recently interviewed on my local radio station, only
the second time I’ve experienced anything similar.
The first occasion was a ‘live’ telephone interview for a
‘hospital broadcasting studio’ in the greater London area which I found particularly nerve
wracking because my hearing isn’t great and I fretted that I’d not hear what
the broadcaster was asking me. It wasn’t the best of phone connections but I
muddled my way through the nerves and didn’t think it was too bad- though could
have been better.
My interview last week was a very different experience. I
was asked to arrive around ten/ fifteen minutes before the programme was
scheduled to start, at which point I’d be introduced to the DJ who would ‘prep’
me for the programme.
Arriving bang on the dot of 15 minutes to 10 a.m. Colin—the
NECR Scotland DJ —was there to greet me and put me at ease, though I wasn’t nervous
at all. He was lovely and asked me some early questions, some that weren’t on
the bio and other info about me sheet that I’d emailed in to the station. Down
in the studio, I still wasn’t particularly nervous –even though I had to wait
through some 20 minutes of general programming introduction for the Morning
Show and a few music slots.
The interview, I’m told, went well and I seemed coherent
enough. Afterwards, I talked about the possibility of running an advert for a
few days. It’s not yet a done deal, but I’ve been investigating what would make
a really good local radio advert to encourage local sales of my novels.
After viewing some advice on Youtube videos, and reading
some articles, a summary of what seems to be best for me would be some form of the following
for a typical 60 second advert. (official
‘writing a radio commercial’ terminology is included)
- The opening attention grabber…Catch the listening audience attention by asking a relevant question or by creating a need. Answer this by naming the product within the first few seconds.
- The distinctiveness of the offer…Give the listeners an enticement like something unique about the offer.
- Express the message articulately and elicit an emotive response from the listener...Aim for direct engagement by offering a chance to explore the product and give them the benefits of buying the product.
- Call to action…Tell them where they can access/buy the product. Focus on generating sales by highlighting the telephone number, or email, or website. Make this the main thrust of the advert.
- Provide further information on the seller and products available...Mention anything relevant which makes the offer distinctly different, though plausible.
- Repeat the call to action…Repeat the ‘how to buy’ details
Other important details to think about in no particular order.
Ø
The advert should be announced clearly and
articulately, ensuring that the listeners can ingest the information
easily with little effort in listening. The reading needs to include/ be
enhanced by non verbal communication ie enthusiasm of the voice-over person. Use
strong positive language to enhance the product. Not to much info as it can
overload the listener.
Ø
Use sound elements carefully and only if it
enhances the product and doesn’t detract from the listening process.
Ø
Emphasise the local elements sensitively to
avoid the ‘me-me’ isms.
Ø
Be sure that you can provide what you say in the
add i.e. authenticity.
Ø
Choose a suitable style- Simple announcement;
dialogue; testimonial; ask a person on the street/reviewer; life scenario with
product given as the solution; story.
Ø
Only use humour carefully if guaranteed to work.
I’ve made a number of drafts and
have settled on something that comes out at around the suggested 100 words which
I can read within a 60 second slot. However, before I share what that is, I’ll
run it past the radio station advertising department to see if what I’ve
written will pass muster.
Slainthe!
Wednesday viewing!
Wednesday dawns rainy and misty here in my neck of the woods.
It doesn't look like my plan for 'more autumn garden tidy-up' is going to happen today, so while I'm composing a radio advert, I'm sharing this video highlighted to me by a 'friend' on one of my Facebook groups.
I'll be watching the whole of it later but the beginning certainly looks promising since my current research reading is all about Hadrian's Wall. The wall is sure to feature on this video about the incredible feats of engineering that the Romans undertook as they extended their vast empire.
Enjoy!
Slainthe!
It doesn't look like my plan for 'more autumn garden tidy-up' is going to happen today, so while I'm composing a radio advert, I'm sharing this video highlighted to me by a 'friend' on one of my Facebook groups.
I'll be watching the whole of it later but the beginning certainly looks promising since my current research reading is all about Hadrian's Wall. The wall is sure to feature on this video about the incredible feats of engineering that the Romans undertook as they extended their vast empire.
Enjoy!
Slainthe!
Monday 26 October 2015
My #Monday Moments are with Fianna
Good morning! It's not raining here and the day is set to be reasonably fine, though it will be fairly cool - I believe.
I've no #Monday Moments guest today so I'm featuring Fianna Fraser, one of the characters in my time travel novel for Teen/ YA readers - The Taexali Game.
In this excerpt you'll see that Fianna's not feeling the cold, not at all! It's a nice long excerpt so a cup of whatever you fancy might be in order...
Fianna's thirteen and always gung-ho to try the fabulous advanced interactive adventure games created by Callum Fraser, her biological father. Usually, she'd prefer not to have her twin brother Brian play alongside her, or his best buddy Aran. Aran's a general know-all who gets on her nerves, but often Callum gives her no choice.
Here's a bio for Fianna with some more information:
Fianna Fraser lives in Kintore, Aberdeenshire, Scotland. She'd love to have had a sister but all she got was a twin brother, Brian, who is a little younger than she is - all of eleven minutes younger! But she's sometimes sad to say those eleven minutes have made a huge difference to her growing up because her brother can often be a pain in the butt. Fianna thinks he needs to get a grip and not wait for her to make all the choices for both of them. Responsibility is fine, she thinks, up to a point. Being an adventurous sort, she thinks she's quite a resourceful person- people who know her would say that she's downright nosey!
This long excerpt is Chapter 12... and the action is heating up. The teens think they are playing an interactive game which time travels them back to AD 210 when the Ancient Roman Emperor Severus, and his evil son Caracalla, have marched their Roman legions all the way north in Britannia to the lands of the Taexali tribes. We now call that area Aberdeenshire, Scotland.
Is Fianna thinking it's all just a game? I'd love to know your answer after you read the chapter.
Enjoy!
(For up to date information about The Taexali Game and my Rubidium Time Travel Series new writing, 'like' my Rubidium Time Travel page on Facebook. Just click the link HERE)
****
Slainthe!
I've no #Monday Moments guest today so I'm featuring Fianna Fraser, one of the characters in my time travel novel for Teen/ YA readers - The Taexali Game.
In this excerpt you'll see that Fianna's not feeling the cold, not at all! It's a nice long excerpt so a cup of whatever you fancy might be in order...
Fianna's thirteen and always gung-ho to try the fabulous advanced interactive adventure games created by Callum Fraser, her biological father. Usually, she'd prefer not to have her twin brother Brian play alongside her, or his best buddy Aran. Aran's a general know-all who gets on her nerves, but often Callum gives her no choice.
Here's a bio for Fianna with some more information:
Fianna Fraser lives in Kintore, Aberdeenshire, Scotland. She'd love to have had a sister but all she got was a twin brother, Brian, who is a little younger than she is - all of eleven minutes younger! But she's sometimes sad to say those eleven minutes have made a huge difference to her growing up because her brother can often be a pain in the butt. Fianna thinks he needs to get a grip and not wait for her to make all the choices for both of them. Responsibility is fine, she thinks, up to a point. Being an adventurous sort, she thinks she's quite a resourceful person- people who know her would say that she's downright nosey!
This long excerpt is Chapter 12... and the action is heating up. The teens think they are playing an interactive game which time travels them back to AD 210 when the Ancient Roman Emperor Severus, and his evil son Caracalla, have marched their Roman legions all the way north in Britannia to the lands of the Taexali tribes. We now call that area Aberdeenshire, Scotland.
Is Fianna thinking it's all just a game? I'd love to know your answer after you read the chapter.
Enjoy!
(For up to date information about The Taexali Game and my Rubidium Time Travel Series new writing, 'like' my Rubidium Time Travel page on Facebook. Just click the link HERE)
****
“Have all the outer guards trebled.”
Aran could hear the man
bellow before he could even see him. Peeping out from behind the stall hanging,
he watched the chief bluster his way up the roundhouse calling for his washing
water. The man was in a foul mood. Again. Two warriors scurried after him
listening and arguing with him. At his stall, Tuadh turned to the men and
pointed a finger.
“Double the inner guard with
our youngest warriors. We will have our Beltane rights in peace. See that it is
done well.”
Disappearing inside his
cubicle, still muttering to himself, Tuadh left the two men at his doorway. The
warriors charged out of the roundhouse as though a hive of bees chased them.
Fianna crept into the boys’
stall. “Any idea what that was about?”
“Don’t reckon he was too
happy.” Brian edged along to make room for his sister on the cot.
“Something’s upset him for
sure, but then he always seems to be in a grumpy mood. Guess it must come with
the territory.” Aran sidled further away from Fianna who was now sitting
centrally between them.
Her face screwed up. “Whose
territory?”
“The job. My dad says that
if somebody is a big boss then he, or she, is always moaning about the
responsibility.”
“You’re the one charged with
our responsibility, and you’re doing plenty moaning right now.” Brian cackled,
nudging him off the bed.
“Yeah, well we haven’t
exactly been successful with the tasks Callum set for us.”
They had only recently
returned to the chief’s roundhouse, Seonagh having told them to wait there for
her.
The look on his face must have
had her doubting her answer.
“Well, we’ve covered a few
of them.”
Aran didn’t feel so certain.
Brian didn’t look too sure either.
She continued. “You two have helped Tuadh by pointing
out where the Roman camps are going to be. I don’t think I’ve been nosey enough
yet, and that’s why I want to stay a bit longer.”
Brian started to recite
their list of objectives. “Where? We know we’re at Kintore. When? We think it’s
AD 210. Who? They’re the Taexali Balbathan tribe. Threats? The Romans are about to
come and smash them to pulp.”
“Nicely put, Brian. This is the sticky bit. We don’t know
yet if we need to give Tuadh more information to help his people.”
“Don’t forget the nasties.” Fianna’s heels drummed on
the wooden support struts of the cot. “We’re supposed to help them as well, and
before you say anything, Tyrnan isn’t one of the baddies. He’s just very
serious about his job of keeping an eye out for Seonagh. Seonagh says he’s the
best guard she’s ever had.”
“I’m warming up to Tyrnan but if he isn’t the baddy,
then who is? We don’t know that yet.”
Brian sounded sure. “That Roman Severus guy. It has to
be him. Hey, sis. Maybe you’re supposed to nosey around the Romans?”
“Sure thing, brother dear. If that’s the case, how am
I going to do that? Do you see me walking casually out of Balbath and wandering
down to the Roman marching camp at Deer’s Den? Am I going to find Severus and
tell him that I’ve been sent to help him? I don’t think Tuadh is going to let
that happen.”
“Evidence.” Aran tried to diffuse a twin argument from
developing. “We need to think about what the visual evidence might be that
Callum needs. Maybe if we focus on that, we’ll be successful with our other tasks,
like we have been with the name of the hill.”
Before Aran could say anything
else, Orla entered the stall looking very fine, her young daughter Caitlinn
accompanying her. Grabbing Fianna’s hand Caitlinn dragged her off the bed
chattering like a bubbly jock. The boys stood up, too.
“Come. We must not miss the
beginning.” Caitlinn was in a hurry.
Orla held the door curtain
open. “It is time to go, though you must remain close by me. Wear your cloaks.
After dusk falls, it will be cool.”
Outside the roundhouse was a
revelation. Many torches burned in high stands like the flambeau he’d seen on Caribbean holiday beaches, giving the growing dusk a
festive air. People milled around chattering excitedly.
The unearthly beating of
skin drums cut short the hubbub, the signal sound sending everyone scurrying
towards the settlement opening. Aran sensed the restrained excitement around
him as he and the other two trotted after Orla who clutched Caitlinn’s hand
very firmly with one hand, a lit torch brand in the other. Apart from a sizeable
number of young guards who were left at strategic places, everyone followed the
drumbeats, surging outside through the zigzag walkway and on towards the
training ground. Burning flares at the far end of the field beckoned the crowd.
When they reached the area,
the brands he’d seen were markers indicating where the stacks had been laid. He
grinned at Brian and Fianna, all of them caught up in the general excitement.
It was the same sort of anticipation he always felt when he stood around the
local bonfire. He was desperate to see what would happen since this was Guy
Fawkes Night with a huge difference.
The swell of people came to
an abrupt halt well before they reached the stacked wood; waiting for something.
It wasn’t long before the crowd parted to allow someone to pass forward to the
stacks.
Tuadh. A splendidly dressed Tuadh
whose gold torque gleamed in the flare of his torch brand, the hilt of his
sword and his unsheathed axe twinkling below. When the chief got to the first
of the bonfires, he raised his arms high above him and began to chant. Though
the words were difficult to make out it seemed he was incanting a spell to each
bonfire as he approached it. One by one, he lit each fire, each flickering into
action as the dry tinder ignited. When each was lit, the marker torch was cast
into the flames making the corridor between the fires even wider. Soon eight
roaring fires lit up the darkening blue dusk, four to each side of Tuadh.
To more ceremonial
drumbeating, Aran watched the elders of the tribe proceed up the now well lit
walkway towards the chief. Eventually coming to a halt, they arranged
themselves alongside or behind Tuadh, a few rows deep, facing the awaiting
tribespeople.
The drumbeat changed very
slightly.
“Follow me!” Caitlinn in her
firm grip, Orla moved through the noisy clutch of people and gradually made her
way along the fire corridor, to her hearth-husband.
Aran and the twins towed at
her heels, among the many people who now surged through the fire curtain. It
seemed to be the turn of important warriors, those of high rank but who had not
reached the status of being an elder of the tribe.
Orla whispered to Tuadh on
reaching him. After the chief nodded, she turned back to Aran.
“Follow.”
Orla was a woman of few
words. The twins at his side, he trailed after her and Caitlinn as she went to
one end of the row of elders, the bulk of the important tribespeople now
clustered alongside the chief.
“Stand next to me, Warrior
Aran.”
Another order from the
chief’s wife but Aran wasn’t too bothered since the view was good. Fianna stood
next to him, Brian on her far side.
Tuadh raised his hand, the
torch brand held aloft. He said nothing, yet at his signal, the crowd at the
far end quietened till the only sounds to be heard were the fires. They burned
brighter and brighter as the flames licked their snaking tongues to the topmost
wood. The sparks flew high, and the cracking and popping filled the now deepening
dusk. A column of puffing smoke rose majestically from each blaze, since there
was no wind to speak of. The wood smells were unmistakable as damp fiery debris
floated into the air around their cheery brightness.
Anticipation was palpable,
an edgy strain circling all around. Aran just knew something fantastic was
about to occur. Then, as though no mortal person started it, a different thrumming
rippled around him. From somewhere he couldn’t see, the low beat of the skin
drums rumbled through the air – sending an even deeper expectancy over the
throng. Eventually, when the tension had become almost unbearable, the faraway
crowd silently parted and from out of the inky blue dusk came the strangest,
most alarming figure he had ever seen. It walked with the body of a man, though
the head was a huge stag with glittering rings adorning the twisted full-grown
antlers.
It was fantastic!
It towered over the mass of
people who parted to allow the figure to be visible by Tuadh.
Aran shared a quick glance
with the twins. Fianna looked beside herself with glee. Brian all but hopped in
his enthusiasm, as well. Nobody else grinned around him, though. Whatever was
happening was a serious business to the people of Balbath. He suppressed the
smirk that wanted to escape; his stomach flutters of pure exhilaration and
expectation.
At the far end of the fire
corridor, the figure stopped in all its splendour.
Fianna gasped alongside and
he felt her trembling fingers clutch at his cloak. Her eyes glittered with
sheer excitement. Though it was an unearthly looking figure, he knew it was a
real live man underneath the strange helmet. Mapon was long gone, but he’d said
his acolyte would remain and what a substitute he was. The figure was
magnificent. In the tense hush around him, he truly appreciated the difference
between seeing something similar in 3D on a screen, and what he now experienced
in real live, seeing, smelling, touching… living.
Callum’s interactive story
was incredible.
He realised that he’d
actually forgotten about it being a story, being so drawn into the life at
Balbath. Right that moment, he was so glad to be experiencing it.
The druid acolyte carried a
strange staff, not unlike Mapon’s, but this one had a shining silvery animal
head atop the shaft. Huge twisting antlers made it easy for him to recognise
the head as that of a full antlered stag, which matched the figure’s
magnificent headdress. The staff-top glittered malevolently in the firelight as
the acolyte held it aloft, the weight needing both his hands to hold it high.
The billowing robe he wore trailed around as he headed for the fire corridor
with long strides.
When the druid’s footfall
passed the furthest away fire, a carnyx shrieked its terrifying resonance
alongside Aran, notes that lingered in the gloom. The tension amongst the
multitude was so powerful he felt it ripple through him. It wasn’t a frightening
feeling: more of an extreme exhilaration. Any of these objects – staff, headdress
or carnyx – would be incredible evidence to take back to Callum. How could that
happen though?
Without looking down, he
became aware of Caitlinn who’d slipped from her mother’s grip. Sneaking in
between him and Fianna the little girl bristled with anticipation. Orla nodded
her approval when he glanced her way to indicate he was aware of her daughter.
When the last resonance of the carnyx could be heard no longer, the acolyte’s
voice replaced it from that furthest away fire, carrying mournfully up into the
cloudless, now star-studded navy sky.
“Cernunnos, Lord of Darkness…”
Brian nudged Aran in the
ribs as he mouthed, “Cernunnos strikes again.” His toothy grin shone white in
the flickering firelight.
“Shut up and listen!” Aran
whispered in his friend’s ear, wanting to be respectful.
The druid intoned a deep boom
across the moonlight.
“Go with thanks. Yet come
with blessings. With the mother-earth, Brighde, bring energy to our fires.”
The sounds of his chanting
sent creepy shudders through Aran. Fianna dug her nails into his arm, her
trembling transferring right through the fabric of his tunic. Caitlinn snuggled
in even closer to him when the druid slowly paced his way up through the fire
passageway, his eerie incantation increasing in volume as he walked towards
them. Lamenting the passing of the dark winter moons his dirge was now
addressed to Brighde, the name sounding a bit like the word bride – the name
Aran knew to be the mother earth goddess. The acolyte came to a stop in front
of the chief and his elders, and thumped the bottom of his staff to the ground.
So close now, Aran could see
the mouth and chin of the mask had been cleverly cut away to allow the druid’s
voice to be heard clearly. The man’s fierce eyes stared from eye sockets that
had also been carved out. A soft hush came from the gathering then they all
started to intone very softly in unison after he began to chant again.
“Healing fires. Burn
brightly. Burn! Inflame us with your fiery strength. Bring us forth your
fruitful blossoms. Let your sun shine brightly on us.”
The chant repeated itself as
the trainee druid’s arms opened wide, first pointing dramatically to the right
and then to the left. At the far end, the crowd parted. Still chanting, some of
them moved off to the left and others to the right behind the fires leaving the
far end of the walkway opposite Tuadh totally empty.
Aran looked around him.
Everyone chanted quietly with only the smallest of children not joining in.
Pretending to know the words Aran mouthed silently. Looking at Fianna and Brian
he was thankful to see they tried to do the same. Better not to look too
suspicious since it looked like they ought to know the words.
When the tribespeople were
all settled well behind the fires, the high ranking warriors of the tribe came
out and drove their spears into the ground, purposely set closely together like
a barrier, alongside the staff of the druid. The line of weapons made a wall in
front of Tuadh.
The people no longer chanted
solemnly. Their pace had quickened, the verse growing louder and louder till it
became a deafening roar. Yet, again, the sound of the shrieking carnyx stopped
its momentum.
Into the immediate and dead
silence came another disturbingly strange noise. Through the darkness, from
beyond the rise at the far end of the training ground, came the loudest protest
of bellowing animals that Aran had ever heard. The yelling of the farmers was
impressive as they herded the poor beasts into a long funnel at the far end of
the fire passage, a funnel created by a wall of warriors. The animals, clearly
terrified of the flames and smoky smells ahead of them, lowed and snorted and
bucked as they tried to evade their fate.
Standing in front of his
staff, the druid’s voice roared above their din.
“Brighde, mother goddess,
giver of life, purify our animals and bring bountiful fruit. Bring your sun’s
energy to them through our conflagration.”
The crowd repeated the chant
three times then stopped. They hushed again and waited for him to finish his
entreaty. This time the druid’s voice was different. Not a chant any more as a
druid, but the warning of a mortal man.
“This Beltane must be
different, people of Balbath. Let your animals be sacrificed again rather than
yourselves.”
The crowd’s low moan was
eerie. All around them Aran and the twins could feel the alarm of the people of
Balbath…though they could also see determination in their faces. Were the
animals going to be sacrificed on these fires? Aran felt Caitlinn burrow in
closer to his leg.
“Are they going to burn
these poor cows, Aran?” Fianna whispered in his ear.
Aran’s head shaking was her
only reply as the druid returned to his prayers. In actual fact, he hadn’t a
clue what was about to happen.
“Let these healthy animals
aid us to fight our foe as they did last Lughnasadh.” After the druid warned
another time, he walked to one end of the spears and gestured to the people
ranged behind the fires on that side, his arms waving towards the sky in a wide
circular movement.
His silent signal didn’t
make any sense to Aran. It still made no sense when the druid walked to
opposite end of the spears and made the same gestures.
Returning to his staff, his
arms and stag’s head rose skywards in open supplication. His voice reached epic
strength as he bawled a prayer to the heavens.
“Oh, mighty Taranis, from
your realm above, give our animals your blessing!”
On the last word, the corral
of warriors holding back the cows began to split open. The first of the animals
was lashed into movement, forced to launch itself down the avenue of fire
towards the druid. The thwacking of birch switches, and the cries of farmers
alongside the terrified beast, kept it in motion as it howled and screeched
through the fire corridor. The rest of the animals surged forwards into the
walkway on the hooves of the first. Running alongside the lowing beasts, to
keep them in order, the farmers kept up their hollers.
It was like a
mini-earthquake as the cows thudded their way up the glowing orange and red
channel. Aran watched the people of Balbath kneel down at their place behind
the fires as the beasts proceeded through the fire corridor. The tribespeople
touched both hands to the earth below them to feel the pounding of the beasts.
Women pulled down some now screaming and howling infants as the great charging
of hooves rocked the soil beneath them, the reverberations rippling below the
whole arena. Aran felt Caitlinn pull him down, Fianna and Brian following suit
mimicking the tribespeople, since the elders alongside him had knelt to the
ground as well.
The terrified cattle reached
Tuadh’s end of the fire corridor. One by one, they hurtled themselves right or
left when they were confronted by the line of spears. Once they had turned, they
loped away from the crowds to disappear out into the darkness, where other
warriors waited ready to quieten them. Aran understood the significance of the
druid’s arm gestures now. The druid had been ensuring the space was cleared for
the beasts’ exit.
When rounded up, the
terrified cattle would be taken back to their enclosures.
As the last few animals
started their charge, a huge and totally deafening roar went up from the crowd,
drowning out the thunder of the cows as the people heralded the end of their cleansing
ceremony. The few cows that remained bucked and swerved, here and there, trying
to run off but were completely distracted by the human clamour around them.
One bewildered animal
escaped the handlers and swivelled between the last two fires instead of
completing the journey along the whole fire corridor. Terrified shrieks rent
the air as the beast trampled over two men in the front row, pounding them into
the ground, smashing limbs to pulp as the creature blasted headlong for the
darkness beyond the kneeling people. Panic set in as the throng scattered in
all directions away from the snorting and crazy beast. Not knowing which way to
go in its headlong flight, it constantly changed direction.
“Flee!” Orla cried as the beast
whirled towards them.
Aran felt his cloak yanked
back as he leapt to his feet, the warrior behind him dragging him away. Brian’s
shout indicated much the same was happening to him as he, too, cried out.
“Run, Fianna!”
Caitlinn whimpered in front
of Fianna, too transfixed to even get to her feet. Scooping her up by the
shoulders Fianna whirled the little girl out of the animal’s path, throwing her
aside like a Frisbee and straight into the arms of a warrior who rushed to help
them. Her back now to the animal, Fianna began to run but she’d only taken a
couple of steps when its head pounded into her, pitching her high into the air
like a rag doll before it charged off into the now cleared space around her.
Fianna thumped to the
ground.
The Taexali Game is available from Amazon ...just click HERE.
Saturday 24 October 2015
Folly...not likely - reblogged
Hello!
It's a rainy wet Saturday morning and I'm off to sell my books at a FOCUS Craft Fair at the lovely town of Insch, Aberdeenshire.
I've published my every-second-Saturday post at The Wranglers blog. You'll catch that post HERE ... although I've now reblogged it below, since I'm home again.
******
Here are a couple of photos taken from my phone camera on the way home today- a bit far away but what a beautiful early dusk!
Slainthe!
(https://c4.staticflickr.com/4/3409/3197979866_093616fb35_b.jpg)
I've published my every-second-Saturday post at The Wranglers blog. You'll catch that post HERE ... although I've now reblogged it below, since I'm home again.
******
Today, I’m out with my FOCUS Craft Fair group at an
Aberdeenshire town named Insch (Scottish Gaelic: An Innis or Innis Mo Bheathain), about 14 miles North West of my home.
The Gaelic name for Insch is intriguing to me, especially
the Bheathain part, because one of
the minor characters in my Celtic Fervour Series is named Beathan. Beathan means ‘lives by a clear stream’ and when writing Book 1 of the series, I also found a reference to it meaning 'one with a great future'. That sounded like a perfect name for a child who had been predicted by Nara's ( my main female character) druid brethren to be one who would, in the future, be a leader of the tribes. Back in 2011, I chose to simplify the spelling to make it easier for my readers - but now I'm not sure I should have.
Beathan is
in Book 4 of my series (currently being written and that's an 'oh, dear still at it' moment) and, according to my long term
plan, he will be the major character in the last planned book of the series -
Book 5.
But back to Insch. (pronounced IN SH) Today, is the first time I’ve visited
Insch to sell my novels and like all of the new venues that I’ve visited during
the last year, I’ve learned a little about the place I’m visiting. Though it’s
only a small town of just over 2 thousand inhabitants, it’s on the train line
between the main cities of Aberdeen and Inverness . That might not seem like earth shattering
information but most Aberdeenshire towns and villages don’t have a direct train
link.
I’ve driven past Insch many times and have always admired
the imposing structure that’s up on the nearby hillside. From a distance it
resembles a folly but it’s not - it's a lot more than that.
The Hill of Dunnideer (locally also spelled as Dunnydeer)
was the site of an ancient hillfort, thought to be of the Middle Iron Age ( maybe 350 B.C.-190 B.C.) though
dating of it is uncertain. As with many of the other high hills around
Aberdeenshire, the view from the top of Dunnideer is spectacular. It’s easy for
me to imagine how those ancient inhabitants of the hillfort observed what was
going on in the valleys below them. It’s not too far a stretch of the
imagination to envisage a system of ‘fire’ signals between these high spots
which would have alerted the tribespeople of the Garioch area to any
substantial threat to their livelihood – like the huge threat of the Ancient
Roman invaders I write about in my Celtic
Fervour Series and in The Taexali
Game, my time travel novel for teens. As a centre of power, religious or secular, those walls would have made an impressive impact.
There's almost nothing left of the structure of the original hillfort. What’s still visible now is the
arch of a pointed medieval window, which originally gave light to a first floor hall of
a rectangular tower house. When intact, the tower house must have been a sight to see towering even higher over the landscape than the hillfort would have done. It was possibly very threatening to what would have been a simple agrarian community working the foothills below. By then, it would have stamped the 'serfdom' status of the people of the land as few other things would have done. It wouldn't have seemed that the overlord was an 'out of sight -out of mind' ruler. His tower house was definitely 'in their face' and would have been a daily reminder of who was boss.
The building was first mentioned (in writing) as the stronghold of Sir
John de Balliol in 1260, though it's likely to be much older than that.
Possibly the earliest tower house of its kind in Scotland , one
of the walls has been known as Gregory’s Wall and it may have been built by
Gregory the Great in AD 890. If not by Gregory, it could have been constructed
by order of David, Earl of Huntingdon and Garioch in 1178. This David became
King David I of Scotland .
These sites give more details on David I, some of which may explain why he was possibly the one to commission the building of the tower house.
(http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/historic_figures/david_i.shtml)
What's also unusual about the remains of Dunnideer Tower house (sometimes named Dunnideer Castle) is that the granite blocks
used to build it had been vitrified. A vitrified hillfort was one where extreme
heat caused a fusion of the stones, and some form of integrated wood, the continued conflagration melding them together. Charcoal deposits from the vitrification process have been carbon dated which have furnished us with the 'B.C' dates mentioned above.
This vitrification process of
adding such extreme heat on purpose is not well understood, yet. The reasons for it remain
unclear though archaeologists don’t believe the ‘heat’ process was done to
strengthen the building during construction. One theory is that vitrification
took place after a deliberate destruction of the stronghold, either because it
was under threat from an enemy or because the structure was no longer needed
for its original use. Some theories indicate that the hillforts were not built for protection reasons but were perhaps religious or spiritual centres, and that the eventual destruction may have been due to a change in the belief system, or because the site was no longer used for the same sacred purposes.
I'd very much love to know a whole lot more about these ancient hillforts.
How about you?
Here are a couple of photos taken from my phone camera on the way home today- a bit far away but what a beautiful early dusk!
Slainthe!
Thursday 22 October 2015
Ah, those 6 what if...s
I wonder...and wonder some more!
Caracalla, son of the Emperor Severus, appears in my time travel novel - The Taexali Game. In addition to reading about his exploits in northern Britannia, I've been researching about the legacy left throughout the Roman Empire by Caracalla.
The arch of Caracalla at Volubilis -Wikimedia Commons |
As well as the remains of The Baths of Caracalla, the fabulous
bathing facility in Rome (read an earlier post) ,
there are some other structures still able to be viewed which are attributed to Emperor Caracalla.
The remains of the triumphal arch at the
Roman city of Volubilis , in Morocco , are
found at the end of city’s main street, the Decumanus Maximus. Started in AD 217, in honour of the emperor Caracalla and his mother, Julia Domna, it was completed
after their deaths.
The City’s Governor, Marcus Aurelius
Sebastenus, had commissioned the arch in local stone, the top of which is believed to have been a
bronze chariot pulled by six horses. At the foot of the arch were statues of
nymphs pouring water into carved marble basins. Though Caracalla and Julia
Domna had been carved into medallion busts, they have been defaced. Unfortunately, incomplete reconstruction by the
French in the 1930s has led to some controversy over the authenticity.
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Decumanus_Maximus.jpg
Before the Romans extended the site,
Volubilis covered about 12 hectares of land. Enclosed by town walls it was
built to a fairly typical Phoenician pattern of streets.
The Tingis Gate |
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Volubilis_Tingis_Gate.jpg
With the arrival of
the Romans, the site was extended, the occupation area increased to around 42
hectares. Caracalla's arch was built at the junction of the old and new parts of the city: most public buildings in
the older part and grand houses filling the newer areas. The Decumanus (main
street) was paved with footpaths to each side, behind which was an arcaded line
of porticoes- openings to many tiny shops.
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Volubilis_Triumphal_Arch.jpg
The city was supplied with water
from an aqueduct in nearby hills, the earliest form of this channel constructed
between AD 60 -80. Over the decades, and even centuries of use, there were many
reconstructions of the aqueduct. Complex plumbing fed water from the aqueduct
to the houses and public baths, while drains and sewers carried the waste water away
to the river.
North Baths -Volubilis |
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Volubilis_North_Baths.jpg
A spectacular sight may have been the
large fountain at the city centre, fed from the aqueduct which was positioned
near the arch of Caracalla.
Volubilis is a UNESCO World Heritage
Site, a very well preserved example of a colonial town on the fringes of the Roman Empire .
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Volubilis_map.png
I’m personally intrigued by the fact
that the extent of this Roman city- some 42 hectares – is approximately the
same size as the temporary Roman Marching Camp at my home village of Kintore ( 44 ha) in Aberdeenshire, Scotland.
If the Romans had not withdrawn from the lands of the Taexali, after the influx of troops of
Emperor Severus and Caracalla in northern Scotland, I wonder if there
might have been some granite remains of buildings to rival those of Volubilis.
It's an intriguing thought, but the what if can only be guessed at...
Slainthe!
Wednesday 21 October 2015
#Welcome Wednesday with K B Walker
My #Welcome Wednesday guest is Crooked Cat author friend - KB Walker.
KB Walker |
I'm delighted to welcome Kimm back again. It's been a while since she last shared something here, though we managed a 'real live' brief hello in York last July when the Crooked Cat authors gathered for a seminar.
It's been a few years since I read Kimm's Crooked Cat novel Once Removed. It's a great read, with sensitively dealt with subject matter - Self Harm- and that's not the easiest thing to write about.
She's sent along a really atmospheric poem to share, today, and a special kind of gift. I'll hand over to Kimm to explain what that is and how you can get it...
Reading as a Group Effort
I love to read. It’d be my guess most
authors do. The two activities have much in common as this poem reveals:
Through the
window
Feet up, snug
in a worn chair
Keyboard on my
lap, I watch.
Sheep baa from
the green slope,
Safe behind
higgledy stone.
Cirrus clouds
caper past,
Breezes stroke
pregnant buds,
Branches
quiver.
I pass through
the glass
To the place
where words play.
And slip inside
the lives of others
In times and
places of my desire.
Safely
anchored, I can fearlessly touch
Death or birth,
hate or pain,
Engineer wisdom
and secure pleasure.
Fingers strive
to craft readers’ portals
Into daydreams
such as these.
After my mother-in-law was widowed, she
told me that Saturdays were the worst because she’d come home from her day out
in town and have no one to share her observations with. Well-crafted books
delight and often challenge us. It adds a dimension to our pleasure when we can
share our observations and work through challenging ideas with others.
If I’m not deep in a book, I like to do
Sudoku puzzles while watching favourite TV shows in the evening. Thank goodness
my husband and friends drag me out of my boring comfort zone to try new things
on a regular basis! Readers’ groups offer the equivalent service; pushing me to
read books I would never have chosen myself.
Besides it’s great to have an excuse to
meet with my friends over a long lunch and talk about books in and amongst
everything else.
If you belong to a readers’ group, I offer a Readers’ Group Pack to accompany my book Once Removed. It includes some
background information, questions for discussion (please don’t read them in
advance, as they include spoilers), photographs of some of the settings and
even a cake recipe to share over coffee or tea.
If you'd like a copy of the Readers’ Group Pack click HERE and Kimm will make arrangements to gift you one.
Thank you, Kimm! I enjoyed your poem very much.
You'll find Kimm at:
Amazon Author Page to buy Once Removed and a Life Less Lost.
Becoming an author seemed as likely as being a princess or an astronaut but after twenty years at the chalk-face, Kimm left schools behind and set her mind to the dream. She's had several poems, short stories and articles published, won a handful of local prizes, as well as being invited to speak at events in the UK and US.
Kimm's two grown up sons have left home now but in 1996, fifteen year old James was diagnosed and survived cancer against the odds. A Life Less Lost, her memoir of that experince, was published in 2009.
A foodie, Kimm recently discovered the joys of grow-your-own, loves 'doing up' old houses, reading, badminton, skiing and various crafts.
Her debut novel, Once Removed, was published in 2012 by Crooked {Cat} Publishing.
Thank you for visiting, Kimm, and best wishes with all of your writing projects.
Slainthe!
Tuesday 20 October 2015
Radio date!
Hello!
Tomorrow morning, Wednesday 21st October 2015, 10 a.m, I've an interview on my local radio station NECR Scotland (North East Community Radio)
I'm expecting to be answering questions about my writing- my Crooked Cat books and my locally set time-travel novel The Taexali Game.
If the questions are not about that, then it might be a whole different ball game answering them!
You'll catch that interview at NECR 10 a.m. (UK time)
(http://www.necrfm.co.uk/)
Though if you don't live near Aberdeenshire, Scotland, I've actually no idea how you might listen in to the 'live' broadcast.
Slainthe!
Tomorrow morning, Wednesday 21st October 2015, 10 a.m, I've an interview on my local radio station NECR Scotland (North East Community Radio)
I'm expecting to be answering questions about my writing- my Crooked Cat books and my locally set time-travel novel The Taexali Game.
If the questions are not about that, then it might be a whole different ball game answering them!
You'll catch that interview at NECR 10 a.m. (UK time)
(http://www.necrfm.co.uk/)
Though if you don't live near Aberdeenshire, Scotland, I've actually no idea how you might listen in to the 'live' broadcast.
Slainthe!
Monday 19 October 2015
#Monday Moments are with Cathy Bryant & her Pride and Regicide
Good morning!
My #Monday Moments are with the incredibly multi-talented Cathy Bryant whose professional writing skills are used to impressive advantage.
I met Cathy this year when she became a Crooked Cat author, her first novel Pride and Regicide having been published by Crooked Cat three weeks ago - though she's not new to writing.
Cathy's worked as a life model, civil servant and childminder before becoming a professional writer. She has won 20 literary awards, including the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Prize and the Wergle Flomp Humor Poetry Contest, and her work has appeared in over 200 publications. Cathy's books are 'Contains Strong Language and Scenes of a Sexual Nature' and 'Look at All the Women' (both poetry), 'How to Win Writing Competitions' (nonfiction). and 'Pride & Regicide - a Mary Bennet Mystery' (a novel). See her listings for cash-strapped writers at www.compsandcalls.com, updated on the first of every month. Cathy lives in Cheshire, UK.
(Read to the end of the excerpt to find out more about Cathy's competitions and inspiring wins!)
I'll be reading my copy of Pride & Regicide soon, since I'm gradually whittling down my kindle queue. I love reading Jane Austen's books so I'm sure to enjoy Cathy's humorous murder mystery based on daily life in the Bennet- style household.
Here's what Pride and Regicide is all about:
"Regicide? Oh, heaven preserve us! Was it the French? They will kill us all, and make us eat strange sauces."
My #Monday Moments are with the incredibly multi-talented Cathy Bryant whose professional writing skills are used to impressive advantage.
I met Cathy this year when she became a Crooked Cat author, her first novel Pride and Regicide having been published by Crooked Cat three weeks ago - though she's not new to writing.
Cathy's worked as a life model, civil servant and childminder before becoming a professional writer. She has won 20 literary awards, including the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Prize and the Wergle Flomp Humor Poetry Contest, and her work has appeared in over 200 publications. Cathy's books are 'Contains Strong Language and Scenes of a Sexual Nature' and 'Look at All the Women' (both poetry), 'How to Win Writing Competitions' (nonfiction). and 'Pride & Regicide - a Mary Bennet Mystery' (a novel). See her listings for cash-strapped writers at www.compsandcalls.com, updated on the first of every month. Cathy lives in Cheshire, UK.
(Read to the end of the excerpt to find out more about Cathy's competitions and inspiring wins!)
I'll be reading my copy of Pride & Regicide soon, since I'm gradually whittling down my kindle queue. I love reading Jane Austen's books so I'm sure to enjoy Cathy's humorous murder mystery based on daily life in the Bennet- style household.
Here's what Pride and Regicide is all about:
"Regicide? Oh, heaven preserve us! Was it the French? They will kill us all, and make us eat strange sauces."
So says Mrs Bennet, but the king is not dead -
Miss King is dead, and it looks
like murder.
Three years after the events of Pride and Prejudice, Mary Bennet puts her formidable mind to work to solve the case, armed only with philosophy, her best friend, Cassandra Lucas, and some nifty detective techniques involving embroidery...
Three years after the events of Pride and Prejudice, Mary Bennet puts her formidable mind to work to solve the case, armed only with philosophy, her best friend, Cassandra Lucas, and some nifty detective techniques involving embroidery...
Cathy's very gallantly sent along a photo for us to admire- of herself and her new husband looking very swish in 'Bennet' attire! She's also included a wonderful excerpt that really whet's the appetite, especially for anyone who hasn't yet bought a copy of Pride and Regicide. I have to admit to picturing the cast of a certain BBC mini series version of Pride and Prejudice that came out in 1995 (THE Colin Firth /Jennifer Ehle one) as I read this excerpt- and that was my most favourite film of the decade!
Excerpt
“Murder!” exclaimed
everyone, and
then they all began to talk at once.
When the hubbub had
subsided
somewhat, Mr Wickham said, “Miss Bennet, can you be so sure that
what you saw
was the shadow of another person? Might it not have been anything
on such a
sunny day – the shadow of the bell itself, for instance?”
Everyone looked at
me for my
answer.
“No, sir, it could
not,” I said,
in a tone that was, I fear, cross. “It was shaped like a person,
not a bell,
and it moved like a person, not a bell or a tree or a cloud or
anything else.”
Mr Wickham bowed and
asked no
more.
“A single shadow
seems an awful
lot upon which to base a theory of murder!” said Charlotte
Collins.
“Oh, but the shadow
is not all,”
said Cassandra excitedly. “There is also the matter of—”
I silenced her with
the angriest
of looks, and she looked quite deflated.
“The matter of what,
Cassandra?”
Lydia asked.
“Oh – nothing – that
is – nothing
that signifies. I am over-excited and not certain of what I am
saying,” said
Cassandra, and looked at me with such misery that I forgave her on
the spot.
“I still say that it
is the
French,” said Mother. “Who else behaves in this manner? It is
quite historical.
If you look at trouble and death in the history of England, I am
assured that
the French are entirely to blame for more than two-thirds of it.
Depend upon
it, they are in this somewhere.”
As Lady Lucas had
one French
grandmother (who was by all accounts the most genteel and charming
of ladies,
renowned for the sweetness and goodness of her character as much
as for her
beauty and noble birth), this was not tactful. Lady Lucas sprang
to the defence
of the French, saying (with some justice) that there was no reason
to suspect
that they had a hand in the current case. Mrs Bennet disagreed,
and the
argument fixed the attention of the table away from me, for which
I was
heartily thankful.
“Enough of such
serious matters,”
said Sir William Lucas after a while. “Fortunately you ladies do
not have to
deal with politics – we shall do so over our brandies, and you may
rest assured
that we shall find out the matter. If there is anything to be
done, then I
shall take steps to interest the Court in the affair.”
This was a hint that
the ladies
should stop meddling and giving their opinions of matters that
should not
concern them. The argument was curtailed. Lady Lucas set the
example of
withdrawing to the drawing room, and we followed.
“Mary,” said
Cassandra. “I am
quite disconsolate. I would never have betrayed the secret, only –
only I could
not let Miss King be suspected of suicide.”
“No, I understand,”
I said. “Though
I hope that our minister would not have jumped to such dreadful
conclusions as
Mr Collins did. But I do not blame you, Cassandra. I only looked
at you so
angrily to prevent you from telling of the glove.”
“Oh yes! Of course,”
said
Cassandra. “Do you know – that remark about you knowing all was
the first time
I have spoken out loud like that in company. I am grown quite
brave. That is
why I almost blurted out The Secret of the Glove.”
She said it like
that, in
magiscule, as if it were a chapter in a novel.
“I am glad that you
are grown
brave, Cassandra,” I said. “But I hope for Miss King’s sake that
this courage
will be mixed with discretion.”
“Oh yes,” said
Cassandra, happy
now that she had been understood and forgiven. “I expect that I
will never dare
to speak out again for five years or so.”
“I hope that you
will, much
sooner than that,” I said. “But not about anything concerning the
murder. I
wonder what the gentlemen are saying on the matter? They have
probably
discounted all our information, and are making themselves seem
wise with
political reflections about France, or on the frailty of the
female sex.”
“Mary! What a
dreadful thing to
say!”
“I speak from
experience,
Cassandra, which renders my discourse allowable according to
philosophical
principles. Once, when I was just fifteen, I listened at the
door.”
What a fantastic line to stop at...Cathy! (I need one of those **wink** emoticons here)
And now here's some great advice from Cathy for winning competitions...and getting material benefit from it.
As for 'How to Win
Writing Competitions - and make money', I wrote it to show people
how to win prizes for their writing without paying out lots in
entry fees. It's the system I use myself, and I've gone from
winning nothing at all to winning 20 writing competitions. My
prizes have ranged from £1000 to a honeymoon in Italy! The
publicity also helps to sell books.
My books are
available from:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/577077
http://www.mothersmilkbooks.com/index.php/shop/product/133-look-at-all-the-women-by-cathy-bryant
http://www.mothersmilkbooks.com/index.php/shop/product/133-look-at-all-the-women-by-cathy-bryant
Thanks for joining me today, Cathy, and my very best wishes for great sales of your books.
Slainthe!
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